Thunder and the Sun
by Ayngel
Summary: Sunstreaker becomes aware of Thundercracker's distress over his failing relationship with Skywarp and provides an unexpected source of comfort and strength, fueled by his own tortured past. Angst/slash Sunstreaker X TC, Sister story to Forbidden Fantasies
1. Chapter 1

**==Thunder and the Sun==**

**By Ayngel

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_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts._

I wrote this for all who were faithfully reading (and still are faithfully reading) Forbidden Fantasies - thank you especially Buddhabread and Illusion 224 - and feel sorry for Thundercracker. I did as well, which was why I decided, after giving the matter some thought, to make the story of him and Sunny separate.

I have recently rehashed this chapter. It is now more in line with FF, and should be read alongside that story. More chapters are coming soon.

Sunstreaker often comes across as violent and cold, presumably because he has to in order to do the job he does. I see him as sensitive, and with high moral values and another who tends to project a different image from what is going on underneath. He has much in common with Thundercracker, whose own moral values have always called into question the ethos behind the Decepticon Cause itself (as opposed to its failure to deliver, which is Skywarp's beef). He hung around in it mainly because of Skywarp, to whom he was bonded young and, as in FF, their bond is going wrong.

The animosity between Sunstreaker and Mirage, and the caste thing, and Sunstreaker's past, are all important to the continuity.

Set just after "Roll For It!"

_Warnings: Course language, substance taking analogous to alcohol consumption adult themes, implied slash.

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**Chapter 1: Nostalgia  
**

The atmosphere in the rec room was one of weary satisfaction. The Officers had retired early, but a small group of Autobots who had been involved in the fight over the antimatter that day sat clustered around the small table, tired, but happy to have again shown the Decepticons that although they may be of superior strength and firepower, Autobot courage and teamwork would prevail.

On the table were a number of cubes and a decanter filled with a strikingly purple liquid. It was, in fact, rather fine premium grade distilled in Wheeljack's lab - a "present" from Jazz for the good performance put up by everybody that day. It had come with instructions "yous overdo it, an it'll be the first n'last time I even contemplate such a thing ..." but everyone knew Jazz was half expecting it to be "overdone". In the good spirits which prevailed it was flowing fairly freely and in a manner such that it seemed almost certain there would be a few sore heads the next day.

Bumblebee leaned forward and helped himself to his third cube, a greater than usual exhuberance about him. "He's a legend, that kid in the wheelchair ..." he was saying. "Look how he helped Prowl the other day! and who would ever have thought he could have pulled that off today ...? ... against Skywarp! Look at the size of Chip and look at the size of Skywarp ... he's a wonder, I'm telling ya!"

There were general noises of agreement. Only Brawn, seated at the end of the table, gave a disapproving look over the top of the datapad he was studying. He was secretly irritated with Jazz about the Premium. In the absence of any officers, he was in charge in here tonight, and as far as he was concerned they should be resting, not partying, and the yellow minibot was overstepping the mark. Prowl had made it clear that he did not want the episode where the human had assumed control of his battle computer spoken of openly.

Taking a sip of his own regular grade energon, and returning to the pad, Brawn reconfirmed to himself his view that the inclusion of Bumblebee within the Special operations Team - notwithstanding his talents – was a questionable move on Prime's part.

"So, Bee!" Cliffjumper was saying, perched opposite on the couch next to Hound, his hand casually on the Tracker's thigh "Are you gonna tell us what happened din that lab today. "Cos _he _won't ..."

He looked up at Hound and gave the thigh a squeeze and the Tracker gave a little exclamation but didn't remove the hand, instead putting an arm around the minibot. "Yeah!" said Huffer, "go on, Bee!" and Gears and Windcharger grunted an indication of interest as well. Behind the datapad, Brawn frowned.

"Well," said Bumblebee, we can't say too much because it's classified, can we Hound? But it was pretty hot in there. Megatron was there, and all the Seekers, and Soundwave, and the cassettes, and the triplets. Megatron was fighting Hound's holograms, and Mirage was busy with the Seekers, so I guess basically – it was all up to me to take on the rest and rescue Chip!"

It drew comments of: "Oh yeah right!" from Cliffjumper, and the others laughed. Hound said "Bee, you've left out the part where you laid Soundwave flat single handed ...."

"I was coming to that!" They all laughed and Windcharger leaned forward and topped up the cubes. "Here's to victory!" he said. They all sat forward and there was a clinking as they raised their cubes. Only Brawn remained firmly attached to his seat, fixated on the datapad.

Sideswipe leaned back in the recliner on the other side of the room and, stretching his legs out, crossed them and shuttered his optics. He knew he was being antisocial, but for once tonight he was quite happy that the minibot take the floor.

Usually, he and Sunstreaker would have drank with them, even pulling Brawn into the party, at least making absolutely certain that his worst fears were concerned. But Sunny had been in a strange mood today, and now he was elsewhere. With Bluestreak, Sideswipe surmised.

Sunny's acquisition of an interface buddy soon after their arrival on Earth had not surprised the red twin given that was usually how he let off steam and relaxed when troubled. And that was fine, and Sideswipe did not begrudge him it at all, or mind being in the rec room without him. He just wasn't in the mood for conversation himself, preferring to let their words wash over him, half listening, enjoying the warmth of the room and feeling relaxed from the premium.

There was another burst of laughter and then Windcharger was saying "You gotta admit, it was kinda weird the way Skywarp just stood there..." and then they were talking about the Wheeljack's mind control device and Chip's heroics and then the Seeker again.

Sideswipe sighed. He hoped they'd soon change the subject, making a mental note that if they started talking jet judo then, cosy though the recliner was, he would get up and leave. They would be sure to try and get him to go over there and he really could not face being put in a situation where he had to make out he'd performed some kind of heroics. Not without Sunny. He did not share his brother's talents in putting a positive spin on things when they were a stuff up.

Besides, there would be bound to be indirect questions about the _incident_. In other words, the "fling" he'd had with Skywarp during the last armistice. He flushed. Nobody was supposed to _know _about that, but it seemed heaps of people did. A source of huge embarrassment once the fighting began again, not because Skywarp was a Decepticon but because the Seeker had gone laughing off with his bondmate and made such a fool out of him.

No, he thought, reaching down for his cube and taking a sip, he would prefer to keep that and the debacle over the pine forest today to himself. Especially that! All the same, he could not help thinking about the forest and berating himself. He should have been more vigilant. Stuffing up on the romantic front was one thing, but a display of poor combat – that was inexcusable. He'd missed a golden opportunity.

He thought back. It should have been easy. Skywarp had been – _strange _today. Not his normal overconfident loudmouthed self at all. He had seemed to have less energy than usual, and was distracted, as though his mind wasn't really on it; and that should have allowed Sideswipe to at least seriously disable him, and at the same time keep a lookout for Starscream, who he could then have dealt with as well.

But it hadn't turned out like that. Delighted that he hadn't lost his ability to rocket up and catch the Seeker, he'd been even happier to grab bits on the underside of him where he knew it most hurt, reveling in the yelp and stream of expletives which had let him know he'd got some very sensitive places. And it had been better still because – even though he was loathe to admit it - even to himself – he was _still_ sore at the Seeker for – well – for _not coming back for seconds._ And during the attack he'd had his plates gritted, and he'd been thinking: _take this, Punk!_ _nobody does that to me. I am Sideswipe! I'm hot, for frags sake, everyone wants me! And nobody does that to me ….. _

Least of all a pitspawned Seeker! _Least of all that pitspawned Seeker!_

Sweet Revenge! So sweet that he'd got completely carried away. And had blown it ….

He thought back to it. When the Seeker had realized what was happening he had reacted violently, rocking furiously from side to side in an effort to throw him off, but he hadn't succeeded. Sideswipe had tightened his grip, crushing more sensitive parts and causing another barrage of abuse to issue forth, and he'd known that he had the upper hand, and that all he had to do was reach up and rip off the Seeker's elevators, which would cause him to go into a spin and certain crash.

But had he done that? No. Why? Because he'd been enjoying himself. And also because he just couldn't resist – just couldn't help himself - just had to _see …_

If _the manoeuvre _still worked. Because that would not only hurt, but prove that – at least in this situation - he hadn't lost his touch. So instead he'd swung his weight hard to the left, unbalancing the Seeker and forcing him into a roll. Delighted that - after all this time - he could still pull it off, Sideswipe had noted with satisfaction as the world turned that they were headed straight into the mountain, perfect for a crash and bail out at the last minute scenario.

Like a true professional, Sideswipe had checked his parachute and gripped harder, feeling metal cave in beneath his fingers and sensing the Seeker's distress ...

But then, from nowhere, there had been a flash of red and blue and Starscream had blazed in; and before Sideswipe's circuits could synapse another thought he had screamed underneath them and there had been a loud clang and Sideswipe had felt a violent blow to his chest and the world had spun chaotically and turned grey. As though through a mist he had heard something getting yelled by Starscream - which sounded rude - and then something getting yelled back by Skywarp – which sounded even ruder - and then there had been the aroma of jet fuel and a roar of engines which quickly receded into the distance.

Sideswipe had felt himself cartwheeling hopelessly under the blue sky, arms outstretched, caressed by a gentle cool breeze and vaguely aware of the green carpet of pinetops below, the great jet judo expert on full display in total disarray, shining like a beacon in the Earth sun. Then, as he came to his senses, he had become aware of a voice yelling: "Sides, your chute!" and he had recognised his brother. Suddenly horribly aware that he was extremely close to the ground, he had frantically yanked at the cord – and in the nick of time. He had only just managed a semi dignified landing on the soft carpet of needles in a clearing which had fortunately appeared among the pines.

"You all right?" Sunstreaker had said gruffly as they picked themselves up.

Coming to his senses, he had run a quick diagnostic, ascertaining that there was no serious damage. "Yeah, Sun I'm OK" he'd said, performing a quick scan of the area to see if there were any spectators, a scenario which would have been far worse than any physical damage the jet could have inflicted. Sensing no transformers – or humans - he had heaved a sigh of relief. "I guess our jet judo needs a little practice," he'd said, trying to sound nonchalant and not acutely embarrassed and furious with himself like he actually did feel.

Composing himself, he'd disengaged himself from his parachute and started to pack it away, "Screamer get you too?" he'd asked, pleased with himself for sounding so matter of fact.

Sunstreaker didn't answer. He'd looked at his brother then. Parachute still attached, he was motionless, staring through the pines in the direction away from the mountain from where in the distance the rumble of jet engines could now be heard. Sideswipe stopped packing the parachute. "You see something bro?" he'd asked, squinting into the trees and seeing nothing, but aware that Sunstreaker's more finely attuned sensors frequently detected things his didn't.

But his brother still didn't answer. He didn't even seem to have heard him. Sideswipe moved over beside him and touched his arm. "Sunny?"

At the touch, his brother appeared to come out of his trance. "What? ..." he looked at him. "Oh, no, it's nothing .... sorry, bro. I was just thinking ..." From beyond the forest came the sound of jet engines again, followed, this time, by a distant volley of gunshots and the sound of an explosion.

This time both of them looked in that direction. "We'd better get over there bro" Sideswipe said, turning away. "Megatron's got that antimatter and they'll have problems holding out against all three Seekers ..." He hastily packed the last bit of the parachute. Then brushing the pine needles from it before opening the storage compartment in his arm, he turned back to his brother.

He could hardly believe it. Sunny was staring into the trees again.

"_Sunny!" _He now felt annoyed with himself about what had just happened, and he was itching to make himself part of the action _and _have another go at Skywarp.

Again, his brother seemed to snap out of something. It was as though a light were flicked on. "Yes, all right Sides! Don't get your tailpipe in a twist!" He'd looked sharply at Sideswipe and only then had he turned and begun packing up his own parachute. Sideswipe had helped him, noticing that on his brother's handsome features was a frown, something which Sideswipe knew, from intimate acquaintance with his moods as a result of their twin programs and natural bond, was a warning not to make further comments or ask questions.

There had been no further conversation. They had simply activated their rocket packs, his brother's golden body glinting in the shafts of sunlight which as they passed the trees before they flew up out and over the forest. Sunny had seemed all right, but Sideswipe had felt puzzled and concerned. He wondered if the antimatter explosion at the lab had damaged a few circuits and. Hoping this was, in fact, the case - rather than something more serious - he made a mental note to make sure Sunstreaker saw Ratchet when the fighting was over.

There was an eruption of laughter from the table on the other side of the room and Sideswipe came back to the present.

Bumblebee was talking excitedly again and now he was stumbling over his words. He was saying " ... It was great, wasn't it? Megatron's own air force – firing straight at him ... he's such a jerk ... it's like when he fell into that space bridge ..." and then he was laughing so much he couldn't get any more words out.

Sideswipe looked across. He could only see Bumblebee and Brawn properly, and whilst the minibot now looked distinctively inebriated, a serious frown had set into Brawn's face. Sideswipe saw him look up. "I think we've all had enough now ..." he growled, and he had a tone which would have made Sideswipe, personally, loathe to argue; but a hand which Sideswipe recognised as Cliffjumper's was reaching out and topping up the cubes and his voice was saying: "come on Brawnie, lighten up ...!" and Bumblebee spluttered and Premium went everywhere and laughter erupted again ...

"Hey! You're too quiet over there!" It was Windy's voice. The laughter froze and Sideswipe winced. Unshuttering his optics, he saw that every head was now turned in his direction, and that Cliffjumper was getting up and was sauntering across saying "hey, yeah! That's right!" There was a swagger to his walk. Sideswipe saw Hound's face looking over the back of the couch, a silly grin on it, whilst opposite Bumblebee was busy wiping himself with a cloth whilst Huffer tittered beside him.

"Yeah! C'mon hot shot, tell us about the Jets!" the cube in Cliffjumper's hand was has nearly full and the premium was slopping out of it. Sideswipe saw Brawn was glaring murderously as though daring him to add to his problems. This was exactly what he didn't want. Heaving himself up, he said "actually, I'm with Brawn. I think I'm gonna turn in .." which brought a satisfied smile to the face of the yellow warrior but disappointed looks and cries of protestations from the others.

At least, he thought, he had scored a few points with Brawn. It never hurt to do that. Handing his empty cube to a rather surprised and definitely the worse for wear looking Cliffjumper, Sideswipe wasted no more time in leaving the room.

................

Activating his internal heating systems in response to the blast of cold air which greeted him in the corridor, Sideswipe made his way to their quarters, aware that he would probably have to creep in and avoid whatever it was that his brother and Bluestreak were doing – not that this was an unusual state of affairs.

A natural optimist, Sideswipe was not one to worry unduly, but concern for Sunny was nagging at him. Being a twin and sharing the same spark pattern, he was able to sense his brother's moods and he knew all was not well. As for the cause – well, Sideswipe did not know what that was. The spark relationship did not extend that far.

Right then, he wished it did. Sunny could be unpredictable, even irrational and it was hard sometimes to deal with him when he was in one of his "phases". For the millionth time, Sideswipe regretted that they had not grown up together, that he had not met his brother until late in mechalescence. He was certain that if it had been otherwise then the twin bond would be stronger. As it was, many demons stalked Sunny from his difficult and impoverished upbringing in the Blocks of Kaon - such a contrast to his own comparatively affluent sparklinghood and mechalescence in the Crystal Boulevards of Praxus – and there were dark places in his brother's psyche which he just did not understand.

He thought of later on that day. They had arrived at the battle scene just as Megatron was hurling the antimatter into space and the Autobots were congratulating the human for deploying the mind control device on Skywarp. When the 'Cons had departed, shortly after, Sunny had stared after them with that same vacant, puzzled look as he'd had in the forest, and then the casual conversation on the way back to the base had seemed forced, as though his mind was elsewhere. As soon as they'd returned he'd disappeared, and hadn't, as far as Sideswipe knew, seen Ratchet.

Now Sideswipe thought about it, Sunny had been in a strange mood on ever since they'd arrived on Earth. But then, he wasn't the only one who'd seemed a bit odd. This was a strange planet – not unpleasant, but very different from Cybertron – and they were all at close quarters, stuck here in the Ark, the _Piece de Resistance_ of Autobot battle transport, now incapable of even getting off the ground, and at the mercy of an alien race for most of their information. Hardly surprising some had been affected by those circumstances.

Not only that, but despite the 'Bots boast of togetherness – constantly held in a shining light compared to the 'Cons lack of it - tensions were brewing - especially between the senior officers – and several mechs appeared stressed. Ex relationships were also causing problems. Prime's "containment policy" with the Cons – injure them, disable them, restrict them, prevent them from doing any damage here – as opposed to simply wiping them out had caused frustrations among the more seasoned fighters. Yes - no wonder mechs were getting twitchy. Sideswipe had simply assumed that his sensitive brother was affected along with the rest.

As he passed the control room, Sideswipe caught sight of Bluestreak and Trailbreaker huddled over Teletran 1. So Bluestreak wasn't with Sunstreaker? Now that _was _strange. The fact that he was not doing what he normally liked to do post combat was most out of character.

Sideswipe quickened his pace, nearly colliding with Mirage as he rounded a corner. They both came to a halt and Sideswipe found himself the one getting out of the way as the Alphamech's piercing blue optics swept over him. Mirage nodded curtly, his superior alloys rustling gently as he swept away to wherever he was headed.. Sideswipe was barely surprised. That was the usual treatment he and Sunny received from Mirage as half caste Alphas, even though the caste system had been dead on Cybertron since long before the war.

A feeling of unease passed through Sideswipe. Mirage's attitude had never bothered him. He could sense a deep unhappiness in the Alphamech, and thought his aloofness was probably as much to do with this as anything else. But Sunny? Oh yes, the _attitude _did bother Sunny, had bothered him to the point of physical violence on several occasions. Sunny made out it was because he didn't trust Mirage – but it wasn't that. It was the old chip on the shoulder which Sunny had never lost about the half caste thing.

And whatever was the cause of his angst just now, Sideswipe truly hoped it was not that. It was Sunny's worst and most destructive demon of all.

.............

"Sunny? He was seated on the floor beside his berth. He looked up at the sound of the door and his brother's voice. "Sides ..."

Sideswipe saw that Sunstreaker was surrounded by square shaped objects which he had been arranging into neat piles. There were several stacks on the floor around him. Sideswipe squinted down and saw that they were photographs and holographs and that, to his surprise, they looked to be of a personal nature. He hadn't been aware that they had brought any visual records here with them. "What are you up to, bro?"

"Oh, just sorting through some stuff. I found these in our old storage crates from Cybertron ..." he took a picture from the top of one of the piles and handed it to his brother. "You remember this?"

Puzzled, Sideswipe took the picture. He stared at it for a few moments. Oh yes. He remembered it well. It was a shot which had been taken of the two of them before the war, and he knew from the arena in the background that it was from when they had used to take part in the combat games at Kaon.

Sunny was looking at him as though this was a matter of great importance. "We don't actually look that much different, do we Sides?"

Sideswipe looked at the picture, again, still wondering what all this was about. "No, we've weathered well bro ..." he said.

"Remember this?" Sunny handed him another picture. "The opposition, Sides!"

It was indeed. There was a group shot of Skywarp, Ramjet and Vortex and Brawn, who had been the usual opposing team, sporting Kaon Team emblems. He felt his brother's optics upon him. "They gave us a few headaches didn't they Sides?" he said.

Sideswipe nodded, thinking _and they all kept doing it for a long time after that_ .... He thought of the tussles with the Seekers over the vorns, and the viciousness of the bladed flyer, too much even for Megatron, who had imprisoned him at Mordac. Then he remembered the expression on Brawn's face earlier. He said. "Yeah! And you know, I reckon if Brawn had ended up on their side, it could be a whole different story."

Sunny took another picture from the pile. "And this?" This time it was a picture of Sideswipe standing triumphantly over Skywarp, who looked somewhat crumpled on the ground in front of him, paint scratched to smithereens, one wing visibly torn. He could not help but wish that the end result today had been similar, and anger flared in his spark, surprising him in its intensity.

His mind went back again to the failure over the forest, and to how he had actually enjoyed hurting the Seeker. Had he always enjoyed it that much? He looked at the picture again. Yes, he had always enjoyed it. But in a different way since _the incident. _Way back then it was to do with the thrill of conquest. During the war - until _the incident_ - a military accomplishment. Today it had had been impulsive, uncontrolled, spur on the moment – and vindictive. And that was what was bugging him. He prided himself on not being _like that_. And yet, somehow, the Seeker had managed to get to him, to steer him away from his normal objective level headed rational self.

Well it was not going to any more, he decided. He was going to be objective. Their mission here was to incapacitate the Seekers, and that he would do - coldly and without any silly notions of romantic revenge - because it was his job. It was good that Sunny had brought out these pictures. It showed how rational and warrior like they could both be. He would spell it out to Sunny how they would be like that now. And whatever was bothering Sunny, such grounded talk could not fail to help him.

"You know, I reckon we should brush up a bit" he said. "take a few lessons from the past. That way we can deal with our favorite jets the way we used to be able to and not like a couple of clowns on a turkey shoot."

Sunstreaker frowned. Reaching up, he took the picture back and replaced it. He stared at his brother now, optics intense and golden. There was an anguish in them, as though reflecting something with which Sunny was struggling to come to terms.

"Remember, Sides …" he whispered, "it was only Skywarp who got in the pit in those days. Not Thunder …"

Sideswipe felt the need to be close to his brother then, and he moved over and sat down on the floor beside him, shifting a pile of photographs out of the way. They both moved back a little and leaned their backs against the wall, their knees up in front of them. _Thunder._ He hadn't heard Sunstreaker refer to the Seeker by that name in aeons. That was what everybody called him before the war. That was what _he _had called him before he became a Decepticon. That was what Sunny had called him when they were ….

"You probably find it hard to remember that Thunder wasn't always a fighter." Sunny said softly.

The words settled like a soft cloud. And now Sideswipe realized In fact, he could not remember the last time he had taken Thundercracker on. In fact, since being here he had not even given him much thought. He was just sort of there, with the other two. Always it was either his black and purple bondmate or the Air Commander who occupied his thoughts, demanded his skills. Why was that? Was it because it was Sunny, basically, who always dealt with Thundercracker? Or was it because Thundercracker was somehow different from the others, and so he had always thought of him in a different way.

Sideswipe thought back. The blue Seeker had grown up not far from him in Praxus. He had become a musician of some repute, living a very civilized existence in a rather classy apartment and performing the same sort of music which Sideswipe had heard the humans refer to as "heavy metal." Sideswipe recalled with amusement that he cared no more for it here than he had all those vorns ago back there. But it had been perfect for hyping up the energy levels before the pit fights – even inspiring attendance for the music rather than the fighting – and Sideswipe had noted with interest that the music seemed to have a similar effect on humans.

He said "You know, it's kind of a shame that he doesn't resume his former career here. I think it could be quite a success … " Yet, even as he said it, he realized he was only saying it because he hoped it would somehow cheer Sunny up. The words had a hollow ring, because of course, the blue Seeker was no different. Thundercracker had long ago abandoned his civilized life in favor of Megatron's Air Force, and he had been a committed Decepticon for years now.

Sunstreaker gave the ghost of a smile. "I can't say the music ever did that much for me, to be honest ..." he said. Then, leaning forward, he picked up another handful of loose photos and began to thumb through them.

He really did sound _sad_. Sideswipe watched him in silence, thinking about the relationship his brother had once had with the blue Seeker and all that had happened. Could this be to do with that? Sunny had been attached to him once – almost to the point of obsession - and had been devastated when Thundercracker had brought things to an end. It had taken Sunny ages to get over it. He had never really seen why at the time, but now, after that time with Skywarp … well, now he had to admit, grudgingly, that he could see how you could get sucked in by a Seeker. Sideswipe felt a stab of anger, and a deep protectiveness flared in his spark. Did these pitheads get into everyone's circuits? Why couldn't they just keep themselves to their lousy selves?

But the _Thunder thing_ had happened a long time ago, he thought; a _very_ long time. Too long ago to still be causing grief now, surely. No – and anyway, even if Thundercracker had been the same person he had been in those days, the relationship had hardly been a success. Thunder and Sun – as they called each other - had spent a lot of their time arguing or not talking, although their reunions were always intense. Later, Sunstreaker had grudgingly acknowledged that the Seeker's departure – and even the subsequent bonding with Skywarp - was probably a good thing. Then they'd fought on opposite sides and by that time, Sunstreaker was a committed Autobot. As far as Sideswipe knew, their factional opposition had never been a source of regrets for the past.

Sunny was looking through more photos. He put the ones he had in a pile and reached forward and, grabbing a handful of others, started sifting through those. "I can't find – any of him. …" he was saying. "I thought I had some, Sides. Do you know where they are?" Sideswipe noticed, with growing concern, that there was almost a note of panic there.

Sunny's words sunk in_. So _it w_as_ to do with the past! And now his feeling of unease returned.

"Sunny," he said, "I didn't even know we had these things ..."

Sunny had seized more photos and was looking through them. "I wish I could just find one...." he said, "just something that would remind me it wasn't always like it is now..." his voice now had a waver to it and Sideswipe put a hand on his arm. "Sunny.. "

To his amazement, his brother's face started to crumple. His intakes were heaving. "Sunny?" Feeling a sharp stab of emotion and concern, he pulled Sunny gently back to the wall again and put his arm around him and Sunny drew his knees up again and put his face in his hands.

"_There's something wrong with him, you know, Sides!" _he said in a strangled voice. "I've known it ever since we got to Earth! And today – out there - he hardly put up a fight at all. I could have totaled him easily. Except that I couldn't Sides...." he let out a sob "I couldn't ... _not like that_ ...!"

Sideswipe could not remember a time when he had been lost for words. He stared at his brother, who was heaving with obvious emotion. Between gasps, he managed to say: "I cut him a break today, Sides. _I jumped off_."

Now Sideswipe's thoughts reeled. This could not be! He thought about how he had secretly criticized Optimus Prime for glossing over the problems on the Ark as though they did not exist, and felt guilty and suddenly sympathetic to the Leader because - honestly and truly – he did not want to have to face the implications of this. "But Sunny – He's our – your - enemy!" he whispered. "That stuff from the past – what happened - he's - Kell! _You've been enemies for the last six thousand vorns, bro!"_

"He's different Sides. You know he is. He's not like the other two."

Oh Primus! Thought Sideswipe. What has happened! And he actually believes that! Moving around so he was facing Sunny, he drew close to him and stroked his face. "Sunny – _Listen_ …" And then when Sunstreaker shook his head he reached up gently and took the his wrists and squeezed gently, so that the golden twin had to look at him. "Whatever he used to be, he isn't that any more. _His agenda here is to destroy us_. Sunny, _please _– I know we've got this containment policy …" he reflected the irony that he was the one feeling annoyed about that now, and not Sunny – " … but if you get the chance to give him a hiding, you have to do it...." Sunny shook his head again. Pulling away, he put his head back in his hands.

Glancing down, Sideswipe's optic caught the photo of the injured Skywarp. Reaffirming his earlier resolve, he said: "If I get that chance with Skywarp, I'm not going to hold back."

Sunny looked up at him. His face streaked with tears and Sideswipe winced at the pain in his optics. "It's different with me and him from what it is for you with Skywarp." He whispered. "It is Sides. That was just a frag. This with Thunder – I loved him once, Sides ..._you know that..."_

He was crying again. Sighing, Sideswipe leaned back against the wall and drew his own knees up and looked at the ceiling. There was a silence, punctuated only by Sunstreaker's sobs. This, he remembered, was how it had all ended. Tears, anguish, recriminations. The Seeker all over the new found love of his life, leaving his brother and joining the Decepticons. It was one of the reasons Sunny had been emphatic about joining the Autobots when, Primus knew, he'd had more than his share of lucrative offers from the 'Cons.

No, this was out of the pit. It truly was. Once again, he thought about how they could get to you, these Seekers. Look at him after one miserable session? But the writing was on the wall. Thundercracker did not give a toss about Sunstreaker and had demonstrated nothing but callous ruthless unfeeling behavior for the whole course of the war.

He had to nip it in the bud. Apart from anything else, the Autobots might be operating under a containment policy, but so far it did not appear that the Decepticons were. And if anyone got wind that Sunny was – well – _like this_ – then how easy would it be for him to be sucked in and betrayed again? Things could get very dangerous.? No way, he thought. There was nothing for it but to be blunt.

He said: "Look, Sunny, I know how _you think_ it used to be ...." When Sunny looked at him again, tears running down his cheeks, he went on, "... but Sunny,_ face facts_! Apart from anything else_, _remember the fights you guys had?_ It was a lousy set up!"_ He reached out to the golden twin, who turned his face away. "And - not only that - it was a flaming long time ago, bro!"

There was another silence, and Sunny put his face in his hands again. Sideswipe sighed deeply and rubbed his brother's shoulder. "Sun, he chose his faction and it wasn't the Autobots, and he chose his berth and it wasn't yours. _He screwed you over, Sunny_! Then he spent a good portion of the war trying to kill you ... and he's probably got it in mind to do it now!" He took his hand away and sighed again,"... just on that score don't expect me to think its a great thing that you suddenly find yourself with feelings for him again, if that's what you're really trying to tell me this is about."

Intakes heaving in short gasps, Sunstreaker gave his brother a watery look. Then he stared at the floor again "You don't understand!" he whispered.

Sideswipe got up, then, and went to a cabinet beside his berth and retrieved a flask and two cubes. He poured a generous measure of the energon - which was slightly enhanced but not intoxicating - into a couple of the cubes. With an output of emotional energy like this, he was afraid his brother would become underenergised. He came back and sat on the edge of Sunny's berth and handed a cube down to him. Sunstreaker took it with a shaky hand. "Sorry, bro ..." He took a sip from the cube and put it down, clasping a hand to his forehead again.

Sideswipe looked at his distraught twin and felt a great love and despair. _No,_ he reproached himself, he must deal with this logically, just as he must deal with the seekers logically.

The yellow twin had composed himself a little. Getting to his feet, he went into the ablution room and Sideswipe heard the sound of water splashing. When he came out, he had wiped the streaks from his face. He sat down on the berth beside his brother. "Sides," he said, "I know – what you're thinking. But I've done a lot of thinking myself since we've been here ...."

He sighed. "For years I was bitter and angry, Sides, and I hated him. But I'm not any more. Because I realized - he didn't _screw me over."_

Sideswipe looked at him. He shook his head. "Sunny, I ..." "

"No, hear me out, bro!" gently, He turned to Sideswipe and his optics were intense and golden. He looked better, but there was a fragility about him and Sideswipe had the impression it would not take much to set him off again. He sighed. "Look, when I was first in Praxus I was very fragile, Sides, after everything that went down in Kaon. You know some of it. I never told you everything …."

His voice trailed off. Sideswipe put a steadying hand on his arm. "Its OK …" he said. He knew only that things had been bad. He had never asked for the details.

"Those – things, Sides. I could talk to him - not that I couldn't have talked to you, but you're a kind of 'past is the past now move on' person. I never bugged you with stuff…." He paused, as though needing to compose himself again. Taking a sip of the cube, he rose and wandered over towards the room's little portal where he paused momentarily, staring out into the blackness of the earth night. He turned back.

"Sides - Thunder listened and he was there for me …." His voice still sounded unsteady. His intakes lat out a sigh. "A lot of the arguments we had – I dunno, I reckon I was the one who was pretty fragged up in those days. I used to go off about things at the drop of a camshaft. I know you probably think I've always been like that, but, believe me, I'm nothing like as twitchy as I was then …" He paused and took another sip.

"So what with all that … " he stared out of the window again "...I reckon Thunder put up with a lot from me …" and then when Sideswipe opened his mouth to interject, he turned back. "No – think about it Sides. He always came back to me. Then later, when he used to watch Skywarp and me at the fights, I just always assumed it would be me he ended up with."

He looked at Sideswipe, optics piercing.. _"I took him for granted, Sides!"_

Sideswipe swilled the liquid around in the cube and watched the purple hues subtly mixing. No, he didn't buy it! He knew that the blue Seeker had been obsessed with his wingmate and that had been far more the reason for his choice. As far as Sideswipe was aware, _he still was._ Anger rumbled through him then. No – he was not going along with this. He looked up at his twin. "Look – all that may be so. But…he still left you, Sunny! He wouldn't have if he'd loved you."

"Sides!" Sunny came back now and sat back down next to him. "Do you know how much pressure Seekers were under to be with other Seekers and not with "normal Cybertronians" as they termed them?" he said. "Do you know how much they were discriminated against and how much - even at our level - our relationship was frowned upon?" he sighed. "Everyone may have thought the caste system was gone by then Sides, but believe me, it left something behind which was alive and well. Still is, if you look at the problems we've had …"

Sideswipe took another sip of the liquid and reflected, thinking of Mirage's cool demeanor earlier and the iciness and caustic criticism they had put up with from the full caste Alphamech over the vorns. Him and the other remaining Alphas. And he thought of how others had distanced them, unsure of sure how to deal with their program makeup. He didn't disagree with his brother, even though he'd played it down for the sake of peace. But Kell! This was hardly the same situation.

"It was too much for him, Sides. And then when the war started there really wasn't much of a place for Seekers outside of the 'Cons"

The cube was empty. Sideswipe placed it on the table beside the berth. He turned to his brother, and knotted his hands in his lap. "All right!" he said, "but even if I were to buy all of that – it still doesn't alter the fact that he turned into a wanton killer! And that he did a very good job as a squadron leader and destroyed pit loads of Cybertron and took Primus knows how many lives!_ That's why you've been enemies for years_._...."_

"He would have felt bad about a lot of it, Sides. I know that!"

"But – even if you're right - _he still did it!_" he got up and walked to the portal himself now, peering into the darkness. He could see just one light through it, glowing in the distance far away. Somebody on patrol, he surmised.

"Not all of it was bad, Sides!" Sunny was saying. "They took out the Alpha Districts. Primus, sides! That wasn't bad! That did Cybertron a favour!"

It was too much. Sideswipe looked at him sharply. "That's ridiculous, Sunny! Whatever else you may argue, you are not going to convince me that this – Seeker – is all right because he destroyed something belonging to one of our allies who you happen to have a grudge against…." and then when a scowl appeared on Sunstreaker's face, he said: "That's downright un-botlike Sunny! And isn't there enough tension already between you and Mirage? You start adding fuel with that sort of talk, you'll start a fraggin' war right here!"

He gave him a _look_ and Sunny glowered back. Then, obviously deciding to abandon that tack, he looked at the floor and let out a sigh. "Sides ..." And now he sounded distressed again. Sideswipe felt it in his spark, and he came over and sat back down beside Sunny, feeling a great tenderness but – he had to admit – a helplessness.

They sat side by side, and neither spoke. In the distance, there were sounds as the Ark settled down for the night. Eventually, Sunstreaker said softly: "The thing is, Sides ... Thunder really _isn't_ like Skywarp – or Starscream - or any of them. He is – more _Bot like_ in some ways. He's - a worthy opponent. He's a good fighter and he doesn't use nasty tricks. He's got a sense of honour...."

Sideswipe didn't answer. There was a grain of truth about that, he grudgingly supposed. But it was all relative. He said "yeah, all right. He's just an afthole. Not a complete and utter afthole like Skywarp or a twisted deranged nut like Starscream ..."

Sunstreaker went on: "me and him – we never discussed it or anything, but it's always been a clean fight. You know – may the best one win. Neither of us ever did - but I always just assumed that one day one of us would and then the other wouldn't be around any more, Sides, and if I'm honest I never liked the thought of that, but I knew that one day it would have to come ..."

He went on "It's not really even anything to do with what we had once. It's just the way things turned out to be .... _and now here we both are, still alive!"_

His vocalizer had a waver in it again and, unable to do anything else, Sideswipe sighed and put his arm around him. "But today when I realized what a state he was in ...." - he paused, struggling to control his intakes - "If he's going to get hauled back to jail on Cybertron or whatever else it Prime intends to do, then so be it…." He started to cry again. "But not like that! Not with me doing him over because he can't fight back ..." Sideswipe pulled him to him. "Sunny - it's OK ..."

Sunny's head was on his shoulder. "Sideswipe, you said something just now about being unbotlike? Well -_ that's unbotlike!_ We're supposed to believe in a fair fight, and in not kicking people when they're down, and all that ..." he sobbed, "An I know I haven't always been the greatest one for upholding all that, Sides, but I feel like if I don't stick to it now, then everything's been a waste of time! I'm not gonna destroy Thundercracker if he ain't all there _because I can't ...!"_

Sideswipe could feel his brother's warm tears against his shoulder, and as he trembled against him, he thought of the reputation he enjoyed as the cold warrior, the one for whom emotion never interfered with judgment in battle. He imagined how stunned the others would be if they could see this – and how equally horrified if they knew what the subject matter was. _They must not know,_ he thought. If nothing else, he could protect Sunstreaker from that.

Lost for further strategies, he simply drew his brother into him and held him as he sobbed against his chest. And, feeling him there, Sideswipe could sense the special closeness between him and the blue Seeker which still lingered, and he was forced to admit - although Primus, it rallied against everything he wanted to admit - that he had always thought this might happen. He'd just always hoped he was wrong. He sighed "What you gonna do, bro?" he said.

"I'm gonna find out... what's wrong ... and try and put it right."

"Oh Sunny," he said, feeling close to tears himself partly because he could feel the emotion and partly because he was now deeply scared for his brother. Sideswipe held on to him. "I love you bro. Don't do anything you'll regret."

...................

There was the sound of the door hissing open and they both looked around. "Sunny?" it was Bluestreak. The golden twin looked at him. He darkened. "I'm not in the mood!" he snapped. Rising and brushing his face, he got up and left the room.

Bluestreak stood staring at the closed door as Sunstreaker's footsteps receded in the corridor outside. He looked confused. "I'm Sorry Sideswipe...I didn't know you were ... I thought he wanted me to ..."

"Sideswipe sighed." He got up from the berth and came over and laid a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder "Look, he's in a funny mood, Bluey. I think it might be better if you – slept in your own quarters tonight."

The Datsun looked surprised, but not upset. "Oh, that's allright," he said, "I've got things to do. I was gonna go and see Mirage. Yeah! That's what I'll do! I'll go and se Mirage!"

Sideswipe nodded. "You do that" he said, thinking that the gunner was pretty, and had classic beta caste curves, and that this presumably qualified him as "the right stuff" as far as the haughty Alphamech was concerned.

He stood looking at the closed door after Sideswipe had gone. Then he picked up a pile of the photographs from the floor and started thumbing through them, selecting shots of himself in action and particularly one where the purple Seeker was on the receiving end of his fists or weaponry. Despite what had just happened, his resolve of earlier returned. A little bit of touching up, and he would be out there again. Oh yes ...

And whatever was going on in his brother's processors, there was no way he was going mushy on those Seekers, or any Decepticon.

And certainly not the accursed black and purple bondmate of his brother's old love object …

* * *

_Please R and R. **Ayngel**_


	2. Chapter 2

**==Thunder and the Sun==

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**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers._

For all those who read this and alerted it and favourited it and reviewed it etc - my great thanks. And I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update. I have been busy with _Forbidden Fantasies_ -and other more mundane things in life.

For new readers – this story and that one are part of the same continuum and that one is quite complicated without the addition of Thunder and Sunny's antics and Sunny's complex past. The two stories have to start coming together in the next Chapter of FF – and I felt that a more detailed picture of Sunny's past and the basis of his feelings for TC were needed before that happened. It is useful also, I think, to start to get a picture of how things were on Cybertron before the war and of the more deep rooted reasons behind some of the tensions which arise in FF and which are likely to get worse as the continuity evolves.

Just briefly without becoming boring – for those who don't know this continuity - Cybertron before the war was a free choice society and a representative democracy under the leadership of Optimus Prime. The planet was in a state of change, however, having moved away from the previous political system – The "Caste" order - which was not a free system but one where rank and function was pre-decided and couldn't be changed.

Things are always difficult in times of change. The Alpha caste – of superior programming - who had ruled the old system, were still clinging to their old status and were using their money to try and re-establish control. There were many other problems on Cybertron – the conditions in Kaon – awful as you'll see - were only one.

The Decepticon "party" - in opposition – took full advantage of the troubles to try and show that Prime's regime wasn't working. Then, when they failed to win government, they started the war. It's how wars on Earth have sometimes started too is it not??

There's also reproduction/sparkling stuff in this story – maybe its my contribution to the "procreation" theme which seems to have been popular lately. In this universe you definitely need two TF's to produce a replication program. They can both be the same gender – but if it's two males then a femme is needed – oh yes, femmes have a definite purpose other than just girlie tokens – to incubate the rep program. To get it to the stage where it's ready to become a sparkling. At that stage it gets removed and put in a replication chamber, and the machine assembles the sparkling's prototype from the program blueprint.

Important to remember also that the Alpha caste got largely wiped out by the Decepticons after the start of the war when negotiations broke down. There were some survivors. Mirage, of course. And lesser known ones. The Reflector (De Luminiere) triplets and Mirage's cousin Blur. As well as …… read on

_Warnings: the entire story has adult themes and does contain smex, slash, drugs and at times, a lot of swearing. This chapter has decidedly adult themes. You can add prostitution and inferred child abuse to the above list. I'll keep it M rated.

* * *

_

**Chapter 2**

Leaving his brother to deal with Bluestreak, Sunstreaker headed out of the Ark and into the night, aware that his departure would come to the attention of whoever was on watch but not caring. Sure enough, he had not gone further than twenty metres from the Ark when a voice on the com said "Sunstreaker? Is there any particular reason for nocturnal wanderings?"

Wheeljack. He composed himself. .:: I'm – er – just feeling a bit hemmed in Jack ::. He explained. Just need some fresh air. Thought I could – er – keep a lookout for anything untoward at the same time. I won't go far …"

.:: Right you are, Sunny! Been feeling a bit of the old claustro myself lately. But keep your com on – just in case ::.

.:: Got it, Jack!::.

It paid, he reflected, as he made his way up a small track he had discovered a few days earlier, to be favored by the medics and senior officers. He got away with many things which others did not because of his careful cultivation of the relationships – as did Sideswipe. Yes – they all thought he was a paragon of virtues. Not that he wasn't – in many ways – and not that his genuine loyalty to the Autobot cause didn't help matters along.

_And that is the difference me and Mirage_ he thought, and the old anger flared in his spark as he thought of the Alphamech and his high handed ways and questionable allegiances. And he thought: _It will never be all right, between me and him, no matter what Sides says or thinks, any more than it ever was with any of the rest of his pitspawned kind …. _And it bugged him, and what bugged him most was that he still got these feelings, even after all this time.

Very soon, Sunstreaker reached his intended destination – a little hollow in the rocks about fifty meters above the Ark. Settling himself down, he took a deep intake. The sky was very dark, thousands of distant suns studding the canopy like jewels. Below he could just see the bulk of the Ark as it protruded from the mountain. Below, the tops of the pines at the treeline were a dim outline. In the distance, a few lights glimmered here and there, testament to isolated human activities in this sparsely populated region.

Sunstreaker lay back and put his hands behind his head and looked at the stars. He knew you could not see Cybertron's twin suns - which the humans called Alpha Centauri - from here, because it was the wrong end of the planet. He wondered how many of those other stars out there had life and how many were worlds which Cybertronians had explored, and thought that it would be just a handful among millions, and that, whatever happened, Cybertronians were very insignificant in the scheme of things. His intakes let out a sigh. He felt better now. Always for Sunstreaker, being in a situation where he could get some perspective on the Universe helped.

Sighing again, he closed his optics and thought of the conversation earlier with Sideswipe. Dear Sideswipe. So close to him in so many ways. So similar. So much so that Sunstreaker could tell how Sideswipe was going to act in any situation and could almost feel what he was going through. The twin spark at work.

And yet, he reflected, that was where the similarity ended. In personality, they were quite different. And Sides was – uncomplicated. Seemed to have himself worked out and not get bogged down with hang-ups and events from the past. Whereas he …

As usual when he thought of the past, it was as though a darkness threatened to envelope his spark, and he felt anger and resentment burn, fragments of the perennial fire which seemed to have scorched him for all of his life. Sides would never understand the fire. Nobody on the Ark – with the possible exception of Ratchet – really understood it. But Thundercracker – whatever else he may have become – had always seemed to understand.

_Thundercracker_. He found he was beyond crying about the Seeker. Instead, he felt an ache in his spark, but there was a warmth to it, and he found himself thinking fondly of the Seeker, of his calmness and gentle words. _Whatever Sides says, he is different. And I will help him if I can._

The air was very still. It had a balming effect. And Sunstreaker felt himself drifting offline, and as he did so, the memories of the Seeker were very strong. And yet, as he offlined, it was as though the air changed and a storm gathered in the distance. The Seeker vanished, and his recall systems strayed from the new found warmth and back into the emptiness and the darkness.

And he found himself drifting away, further back and to a time long past, and looking on as though he were a ghost, a shadow who had returned as an observer. Looking at the very thing from which the Seeker had rescued him, so very long ago.

* * *

_**Cybertron 2000 vorns before the war**_

A thick smog hung over the vastness of Kaon, sealing the heat into the industrial sprawl as tens of thousands of production plants and generators cast their emissions into the thin atmosphere, spreading tendrils of foul scent into the dingy residential districts which nestled in clusters within Cybertron's largest industrial city.

That cycle had been especially sticky and oppressive. The kind of cycle where passengers aboard the shuttles leaving the busy intraplanetary port would have stretched themselves and been very happy to depart, to pass out of the soggy, smelly, noisy wasteland and into a cool, indigo violet Cybertronian sky; to leave behind the tops of the giant square buildings and plants, as they peeped through the suffocating grey blanket below, glimmering in the setting glow of the twin suns.

Although the technology on Cybertron was advanced and very clean compared to - say - Earth, the sheer volume of production there had failed to stop all pollution.

When the Alphas had ruled Cybertron, the answer had been simple. Contain all production to the cities in the north. The workers, of course, had to put up with the discomforts. And they lived in squalid, ugly conditions. But since they were only low castes and epsilon drones, it mattered not. They fulfilled the purpose for which their caste were created. Their basic needs were met. They expected nothing more.

But things had changed on Cybertron! There was a new order. Of choice and equality and opportunity. Caste described physical type only. It no longer dictated occupation. And the automation programs which had replaced manual labor had meant that far fewer Cybertronians needed to stay in such Kell holes. For the majority of previous plant workers, better lives awaited, out there in the _nice_ cities in the southern half of Cybertron. Praxus, Sale, Iacca Niara. And of course – the best one of all – Iacon.

But the mechs hadn't left. Unwilling to step into a world foreign to their programming, they lingered in the shadows of their old workplaces, in places which became cesspits of unemployment and apathy, an embarrassment to the government which reacted with welfare and assistance schemes.

But the money didn't make everyone leave either. Instead, it financed well the new businesses which thrived there - drugs, gambling, illegal pitfights and street racing. And the inhabitants became so bound to lives of crime - and the rest of Cybertron became so wary of anyone whose history contained a shred of Kaon, Rufon or Yangal - that the vast ugly metropolises became as much prisons in the New Order as they ever had been under the Alphas.

Now, shadows from the setting twin suns spread slowly over the Blocks, the most run down and impoverished district in the most stricken and crime ridden city of them all ….

On a makeshift berth in the front room of a dirty cuboid building - only one of dozens of identical ugly structures which lined either side of the narrow street - a mechalescent lay recharging. He was one of many still sleeping off the effects of the revelries of the previous darkcycle. Bigger and better proportioned than all of the other Blocks juveniles, he was a handsome specimen - even if he was – like most Blocks mechalescents - in need of a wash and a good makeover. His intakes sighed rhythmically and he twitched periodically, pleasant online visions invading his unconscious state.

It was as though Sunstreaker now floated into the body of his younger self, and he found himself redreaming the dream. It had been a most successfulsession of Street Races, and he had easily outrun the mob from the North End, creaming them with the zooped up, turbo charged alt mode he was not supposed to have until he Came of Age. And the older Blocks Streeties had been so impressed, and some of them had won a lot from betting on him, the odds lengthened by his comparative inexperience. And all the Blocks tarts with the garish pink and sky blue makeovers had been crowding around, and they all said he was the most promising transformer to appear at the Circuit for - they didn't know how long ...

Then as he had walked away with the older mechs, a couple of the Enders had jumped them. But Kell, had they been sorry about that! In his dream he saw the big roller with the track wheels leaking energon and limping away, supported by his stupid mate with the phoney racer alt mode and the rest departing hastily behind, a couple looking furtively over their shoulders as they went.

It would be a while before any of them dared to mount a challenge at the Blocks Circuit again.

Sunstreaker smiled in his sleep. After that, there had been police sirens and the usual scarper, the satisfaction at seeing the frustrations of the hopelessly overworked police in catching nobody. In his case, of being not even questioned, because even though they had an interest in him for other reasons, he was too young to have an alt mode. And he wasn't bright yellow in those days, and his alt form extras looked just like those of any other aspiring Blocks mechalescent wannabe Streetie who plastered himself with fake transformer race gear in the hope of sometime doing the real thing ….

Both of Cybertron's suns had been well and truly above the horizon by the time he crawled home to his berth in the squalid two roomed unit.

Yes, the Circuit. Everyone knew that nobody in the Blocks was really anything, but at least racing at the Circuit seemed like_ something_. The mechalescent stirred, turning over. And a thrill now ran across his frame as into his awareness came a scene which was _really _something. Which made the Circuit pale by comparison, a trifling replica of magnificent reality.

_The slick black surface stretching into the distance to the Iron Hills beyond. The intoxicating scent of high grade propellants and volatile emissions. The tall podiums, alive with the excited babble of thousands of voices in the stands, all but drowned out by the roar of the most highly tuned engines on Cyberton performing their pre race checks_ …

Energy coursed through him. The atmosphere was electric, alive with anticipation as the sleek numbered forms were ushered into position. And behind the scenes, he knew huge money was at stake, not paltry welfare cheques. And out there in the stands stood not the Blocks tarts but the most beautiful and richest mechs and femmes of the Alpha caste of Cybertron.

Because this was The Track. _The__ real Track._ With real racers lining up in real lanes on a real course …

And he was out there! Among the sleek Alpha racer forms. The best of the best. And he was going to win ...

Sunstreaker shifted and moaned at the sheer magnificence of it all…

…………………….

Outside, the cycle wore on, much the same as any other in the Blocks. Heavy machinery droned, a whooshing came from the nearby conveyor transport, the pungent scent of ozone wafting through the room. Competing holovision sets and radio transmitters belted out music and chatter in the usual cacophony, interspersed at irregular intervals with laughter and the crying of sparklings, and sometimes voices raised and the wail of sirens.

Dimly aware of it all, Sunstreaker heard voices right outside, accompanied by a crashing and giggling and sound of running feet. He knew it was the sparkling gang from Third Row who were hurling rocks on the roof – something they did quite often and for no other reason than to make a noise and be a nuisance. If he had not been in the midst of his fantasies, he would have gone out there and caught the little beggers and given them what for. But right then the sound - along with all the rest - failed to rouse the mechalescent. He offlined again, returning to the glories of _real racing_.

Presently, however, there were other sounds in the room which he could not ignore. Somebody moving around, things being tidied around him and put away. Then there was a femme's voice. Tired sounding, as always, but sharp ....

"Sunstreaker! Wake up! C'mon now, it's late in the joor ..."

The mechalescent stirred again, hearing it but not wanting to hear it. He did not want to descend from the glorious heights of _The Track._ Doing that would mean facing the fact that he would, in fact, never race on _The Track_ - or even get near it. Mean remembering that he was he was a Gamma caste, and not an Alpha, and that he came from the Blocks and not the Towers of Iacon or the Pinnacles of Praxus and that although the New Order was supposed to make everything fair it had not altered the exclusive rights which the Alphas held to _The Track._

Above all, he didn't want to be forced again into the miserable reality which was mostly his life in the Blocks. The dingy cramped room, the stink from the processors, the stifling heat and his frail looking femme creator. Especially, he did not want to look at her as she prepared for her usual dark cycle of clientele, the ones who paid her for pleasure in the other room of the miserable unit. It was means by which she financed their pitiful existence – and also the drugs which kept her sane.

"_Sunstreaker ..."_ The voice was impatient, and right over the top of him. And now he felt himself being shaken. "_Sun ..."_

Unfortunately, he was coming to, aware of noises now which indicated that it was, indeed getting late. There were sounds of activity as the Blocks prepared for its essentially nocturnal awake cycle. There were engine and transformation noises and heavy footsteps, the sound of irate female voices as sparklings were summoned home after breems of unsupervised havocwreaking in the filthy streets. Next door, the volume of the holovision set was suddenly cranked, and he heard voices and the muffled cracking of cubes.

The heat descended like a blanket. The familiar ozone scents flooded the room with a particularly potent pungency.

The mechalescent turned over and squinted at the femme across the dimly lit room. "Whattya want ...?" he growled.

"Sunstreaker – I need to talk to you. _About something important ...."_

He was annoyed. This would be another remonstration about his failure to attend the useless Blocks educational institution that he was supposed to have been at today. He figured he'd laid the situation out quite often enough. How his above average ability to learn and his being able to read and assimilate had already taken him far beyond the standard of any of the other mechelescents there. How his attendance was a waste of time. How an extra body in the classroom – especially one which was bored pitless - was something which the already harangued and burned out teachers could well do without ...

"_Sunstreaker ..."_

Either that or some other scrap. Not the alt mode – there was no way she could know about that. But cop stuff, maybe. Some jerk sniffing around about the fight, perhaps. Or the tags on the library wall, or that statue of Alpha Trion he'd knocked off and flogged. They had nothing on him, of course. But the thought of going through some tiresome interrogation was excruciating.

He reshuttered his optics.

"_Sunstreaker this really is important!"_

Her voice was _right in his audial!_ His optics snapped open again._ "Oh What is your damned problem?"_ he snarled, sitting up and glaring at her. Primus! The only time he even _got _any attention was when he'd screwed up and the authorities got up her tailpipe. The rest of the time, when she wasn't sleeping off the effects of her habit, her clients got it all.

Heaving himself on to the edge of the berth, he looked at her contemptuously. "I told ya ..." he snarled. "... I saw the truancy jerk. And as for the graffiti pit - that was the sparklies from the Iron Tower..."

"This is not about school! Or the police!"

Sunstreaker looked through the dirty Perspex window. Outside, the light was thickening, but the sparkling gang could be seen in the gloom, hanging by the front fence. The usual sounds floated through the hot twilight. Through the thin walls came raised voices, competing with the holovision set as the neighbours cranked up for one of their regular high grade fuelled arguments.

"It's – its quite different from that ...." There was a strained quality to her voice. Turning to her, the mechalescent could see that she had sat down opposite on the battered bench, the only other place to sit in the cramped surroundings. Her glassy pale blue optics were looking straight at him, the strain mirrored on her thin, fine featured, unwell looking face. He sighed. "All right," he muttered. "But it had better be good ..."

He got up and wandered over to the cabinet which housed an ancient and barely functional holovision set, the main means by which he studied the forms on _The Track._ Opening the compartment above it, he extracted a half filled cube which he had left there when he returned earlier. Now, in the haze of the post race revelries, he recalled some talk about another Challenge tonight. A mob who called themselves the Stunticons, coming in from the West Bank .....

Coming in with a reputation. And a wager._ On him._

_Damn it,_ he thought,_ I could have done with more recharge if I am to go out there again …_

From next door a female voice yelled some thing which sounded like "fraggin' useless afthole …. And he heard their sparkling start to cry. A door slammed and another voice yelled something which sounded like "_dumb glitch ..."_ The holovision blared on regardless. By contrast, their little room was quiet. He realized she was waiting for him.

"So?" he said, returning and sitting back down on the berth opposite her. "Fire away! I've got other things to do besides hang around here..."

The femme ignored the insolence. She had long become oblivious to his moods and outbursts, as well as to the fact that he spent much of his life either avoiding the police or in recharge.

She smiled. A pale, underenergised, half baked smile. "You will not be Coming of Age for a while …" she said. "But there are things you need to know. I know you are already – somewhat _mature_ - and don't need the sort of _talk _some mechs of your age might ...." Her voice trailed off.

And now he imagined he knew what this was about. And he felt annoyed again. He'd had a slagging full on sex education operating right in the room next door, for Primus sake! "Well, what of it?" he snapped. "Believe it or not, I know how to frag! And I also know how not to get into spark input, not starting replication, putting up firewalls and all that pit ..." He reflected as he said it, that he was usually too out of it to bother with the annoying connotations of precautions. Besides which, it ruined the overload.

She was looking at him sadly, and he noticed her hands were clasped in her lap and were twitching, anxiously. "I know," she whispered. She looked up at him, with the ghost of a smile. "I also gather that you're not - without some reputation as far as that is concerned."

As with most other things, he was better at it than the other mechalescents. Or so he got told. He supposed at least she acknowledged _one_ of his good qualities. Even if it was _that _one ...

"There are other things I need to discuss with you."

He eyed her suspiciously. The alt mode! Surely she didn't know about that? Only the Circuit mob knew he was fanging it out there with the full grown Streeties. He looked at her coldly. If she did then she was a sly glitch. All those times he'd been to the Circuit and she'd never let on!

He scowled. She looked down. Her hands twisted in her lap..

"Sunstreaker, I know you are disappointed by the life you've had to lead…" she sighed. "I wish it had been some other way. Truly I do …."

Next door their miserable underenergised sparkling was still crying. A door slammed again and the male yelled _"Shut it up, can't ya? …"_ and his bondmate bawled something back. Movement caught his optic, and through the window he saw that the one functional street light had come on. The gang had gone but a mech, dark and sultry looking, was skulking in the shadows. Undoubtedly the first client for the night, once she had said this _important thing_.

He turned back to the stuffy room, the worn flooring, the battered furniture and the surface peeling off the concrete walls. The heat was oppressive._ My life …_

He took a sip of his cube. "Whatever gives you that idea …"

She sighed again. "I was addicted to the enhancers early in life ... they are hard to get off, and expensive ..."

He glowered across at her, silent. She was still pretty, despite the drugs. All pastel hues and narrow waist and long, shapely legs. Unusually good lines for a gamma, and a petite form. She was smart, too, in her own shrewd, streetwise way. He had never doubted she could have been far more than she had been, and that despite how hard everyone said it was, they could have left here and gone somewhere better. Even if only to a better part of Kaon.

Anger flared in him. "Don't start!" he muttered. He thought of the Stunticons. He would, he thought, leave soon if she didn't get on with this. He could not handle a rendition of how hard her life had been.

But she had that intense look again. She leaned towards him and her optics burned brightly against her pale face. "Sometimes things happen in life. Sometimes an opportunity comes about. When it does you have to decide what best to do with the - new opportunity …"

Why couldn't she talk plain Cybertronian? He took another sip of his cube, a frown on his handsome face. Next door, the sparkling was still crying. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed and he heard the whoosh of the transporter taking off from the depot. What _new opportunity_? This was it! How many times had she rubbed that in? And he was destined, too, for it to stay this way until after he Came of Age - unless he could make enough from the streetraces to get his own place and lie to the authorities, somehow.

"Sunstreaker, you would have noticed that you are – _different_ - to others of your age. Smarter. Superior – in looks and strength …"

He could, of course, be one of the "lucky ones" who got a job in some factory or some mine on the Equatorial Plains as a juvenile. But that was just another sentence to Kell! And she knew how he felt about it too. No - the alt mode was important – it was his only hope of escape and for the future, because he was going to be the top Streetracer in Kaon. And then he was going to be _something_ somewhere. Somehow. And even though he could not go there, into his mind came _The Track._

And if this "opportunity" was the death sentence of his chosen career - a litany about how much a junior constructicon alt mode would suit, then he was out of there. He'd live off the streeties, sell drugs, anything. She could go to Kell.

"Sunstreaker?'

He glared at her. "I'm not working in one of those pits ..." he growled. "I'd rather die ..."

"_You won't have to!" _she reached across and patted his hand. "Trust me! You won't have to."

For the first time, he was interested. He watched, curious, as she got up now and went into her berth room, and he heard rustlings and then what sounded like a lock unhinging. It was suddenly quiet. Next door the holovision had been switched off, and the sparkling had given up.

Sunstreaker fidgeted, sipping at the cube again. There were voices and he stole a glance outside. The mech had gone, but the Third Row gang were back. Clustered under the lamp, they looked to be plotting. A motley band, covered in dints and dings and scratches from the School of Hard Knocks. _Like I was!_ He recognized one as a youngling he'd dealt a pasting to only a few cycles ago for calling him a _flash grunt_. Yeah, he thought, as soon as I can, _I am soo out of here._

There was a small click and she returned. "This is not easy, Sunstreaker ..." she paused in the doorway, "but you have to know. ..." She came and sat back down and now he could see that she had fetched a small white card and was turning it over in her hands, her attention upon it. She looked up at him. "Have you ever wondered about your other creator?"

Now, he was puzzled. There had been one, of course. There must have been! He was not one of the few lingering deltamechs or epsilon drones, the only mechanoids ever to be cloned on Cybertron – a practice outlawed with the advent of the New Order. But that was all he knew! The subject had never been raised. He had just always assumed his mech creator was one of the many who had been in her berth. An accident, the program of which for some reason she couldn't abort. A flyer maybe, which would account for his speed and strength.

To be honest, he'd preferred not to know! And he wasn't sure that he did now ...

The heat was suddenly oppressive, the room, stifling. There was a new look on her face. One he hadn't seen before. A sadness? More than that. Something he couldn't place.

She looked at the card in her hand. "Lots of mechs have come and gone from my berth Sunstreaker … and most of them are nothing to get excited about."

He thought of the procession of sleazes who supervised the plants, the pimps, the drug dealers and the visitors from the Other Cities. In most cases, the reasons why they had to pay to get a frag were too obvious to contemplate. Looking out, he caught a movement at the end of the street and thought he saw tonight's client again, still hovering. "You're not kidding" he muttered.

"But this creator of yours - he was different … _is different…_"

He looked back at her, a pale form in the dimly lit room. Perched on the bench, her pink chest makeover with the subtle violet tints looked overdone, he now thought. But then – _they liked it that way._

"How different?" he muttered. "What – was it some kind of special frag?"

"No – not like that. He's a very decent person … "I – have quite a _love_ for him. Actually"

From outside there was the sound of breaking glass and sparklingish laughter erupted. He surmised that the gang must have knocked off some high grade. Next door, the sparkling started up again and somebody swore. And he thought _by Primus. What room was there for love in this pitspawned hole? What room was there for love in_ her_ life?_ That she purported to feel something for one of those losers who paid her to perform was actually quite disgusting.

Whatever the Kell love was, anyway…._"_

He looked back at her. She said nothing. More laughter from the street, and another whoosh from the transport depot and he remembered the Stunticons. He should get going soon.

"Well," he said _"Is that it?"_

"No." She smiled shyly. "There's lots more!"

She leaned forward so she was looking straight into his optics, and her pale face stood out in the gloomy room. When she spoke it was in a hushed voice, almost as though she were afraid the sparkling gang outside might be listening_. "_This mech," she said. "He was_ – _is _–_ only_ one_ of your mech creators _!" _

His attention went back to her. He was puzzled – and a little shocked. "There's more than one?" he said "How did you work that out. What – did you do it with this mech and somebody else and it could have been either but it's easier to say it was both?" The idea was unsavoury, to say the least.

She laughed softly. "No!" She leaned forward and laid her hand on his arm. _"_You have two mech creators_ because I am not one of your creators ...!"_

Next door, the sparkling's cries turned to screams and the mech yelled _"Primus all fraggin' mighty…"_ and he heard the femme yell back: _"Well you wanted the slaggin' thing …"_ There was a loud _thump _and the crying stopped abruptly and the femme shouted something else. Then there was silence. The mob outside had gone quiet.

The silence intensified. The heat in the little room bore down. For a moment all he could do was stare at her blankly. And then there was a burst of fresh laughter from outside and suddenly this was ludicrous! If she wasn't one of them then where had he come from? "Surely to Primus you didn't adopt me?" he burst out, the situation suddenly bizarrely funny in its impossibility. "Or did this lovermech leave me on the doorstep?"

She looked at him coldly, and he knew he'd probably gone too far with the last comment. "I have already told you, I carried your program. You are not my creation _but I incubated you, Sunstreaker!_"

He was curious, now. Why in the name of Primus would a pair of mechs want a whore from the Blocks to incubate their rep program? Surely there were other femmes available! Like – somebody who didn't flog their aft every dark cycle …

"I thought you were supposed to use friends, sisters? We don't learn a lot in that fragwit school but they did teach us that!"

"He couldn't …" she said, and her optics were suddenly intense again. And when he looked at her questioningly, she said: "He couldn't because …" she paused, and her attention was on the little card in her hands again, and she was turning it over. Nervously, she looked at him.

"Because he is an Alpha Caste and none of his friends or sisters could have done that for him!"

Something froze inside Sunstreaker. The small familiar room around him suddenly seemed – well - different. And it seemed to have gone all quiet again. _Had he heard right?_

"That's right, Sunstreaker– _you have Alpha programming!"_

_He had heard right._ _Oh by Primus! _Well, that was just … it was … well it was pretty amazing Of course, he didn't see how it could be possible! Not with her – this place – everything the way it was. She must have made a mistake. From outside came more cackles and the sound of glass breaking.

He scowled "Don't be ridiculous … "

She was looking straight at him. "It's true," she said, "a client." Then he must have had an amazed expression because she said. "Yes, there have been Alphas too – occasionally…" and she raised her chin with a defiant air."He helped me once! So I helped him. He found he was carrying a replication program which was not from his femme bondmate," she went on, "and I offered to incubate it for him. It had to be done secretly. Such a thing would never have been tolerated among his own kind …."

Another silence. Outside, somebody shouted.

And then, he suddenly was aware of nothing but her words. And all he could think was _Oh by Primus, it is true! And it explains things. It explains_ _everything! _

Because it did. His speed. His accuracy. His fiercely competitive drive. How when he was racing he could anticipate every move the others made_. So that is where I get it from …_

He was dimly aware of raised voices again next door. But it was as though in another universe. From the other universe, he also heard her say: " … his name's Blaze De Lorian … Iacon family … comes from the Towers _… but Sunstreaker, listen, there's more …"_

But as his mind stopped spinning quite so much there was only one, all encompassing thought in his mind. He stared at her, elation rising like a tide in his spark. _"The Track …"_ he whispered. "The Alphas are real racers! And now I'm going to be one of them!"

A shadow crossed her face. "Sunstreaker … she said, "… no … listen … you must hear me out _… its not as simple as that …"_

But he wasn't listening! He rose, excitement coursing, building in every circuit. "It's what I've always dreamed about!" He burst out. "You don't know it, but …" and then suddenly he was pacing up and down, blurting it all out, how he'd gotten himself an alt mode and been down at the streetraces, and how he watched the Alphas on the holovision, and how the streetraces were just a shadow of that, but he'd been the closest he'd been able to get. But now …

And he was aware that she kept trying to get a word in edgeways and kept saying "_no … Sun … listen …_ " but he paid no attention because – well - what could be more important than this?

He stole a glance outside. A door slammed again and he watched as their femme neighbour emerged, garbed in some silly garish makeover. As she tottered up the street into the gloom, the sparklings turned and someone hurled a cube in her direction. It smashed against her aft and she screamed and ran on. There was raucous laughter. One of them fell against the fence and it collapsed. More hilarity.

And he thought: The Alphas! Even though anyone from any caste can do anything now, nobody does what the Alphas do because they are so much better! _And it's not just that they go on The Track! _They're rich and they look great, and they live in better places and have better alloys, and do better things, and get better paint jobs, and everything! _And they don't have to look out their windows and watch some dumbaft femme get her aft wupped by Cybertron's greatest no hopers …._

"_Sunstreaker, please!" _He was aware of her touch. She had risen, and had him by the arm. Her optics were searching. "I know what you've been up to!" she said. "I know what you want! _But this is not what you think it is …"_

He pulled away from her and stared, incredulous, his excitement electric. "We don't have to live in this pithole any more! This is the end of it!"

Her optics were desperate, pleading. "_Sunstreaker, I_ …"But he did not see. Did not want to see.

He heard noises outside and saw that an altercation looked to be starting up between two of the gang members. They were facing up, their chests puffed out in the gloom. There were shouts of encouragement. It would herald the arrival of the police.

"No - imagine!" he whispered. "We can live anywhere we like! We can go to Iacon! _You don't have to be a whore any more …"_

And then suddenly he thought her pretty, and that she deserved a better life. He touched her arm, met her optics with his. Joy rose in his spark. "I'm sorry for being such an afthole …" he whispered … "things are gonna change … _I'm gonna be a Trackracer!"_

She gripped his arm. "Sunstreaker – no – LISTEN TO ME!"

He could not ignore the urgency in her voice. The noises outside were suddenly distant again, and once more the room seemed to close around them, the heat settling with a new intensity. And then he was staring at her, and the only sound was both of their intakes heaving, and she was saying: " …the other creator, he is not Alpha, _you are only half Alpha …"_

She relaxed her grip. He found that a terrible sick feeling was making itself known, strangling the excitement. She took her hand away and looked at him as though stricken. "You are a half caste Sunstreaker !" She whispered. "That does not make you one of them! You have some of their qualities, _but you will never move in their world…"_

Then she looked suddenly drained, and she sank back down on the bench. "Oh sweet Primus!" she said. "I didn't know how to tell you this! I had to give you all the facts … I thought I should start with the good part first …"

Outside there was loud shouting now and the sound of the fight underway. He heard cheers and whacks and thunks, metal on metal and something breaking.

What did she mean? He knew everyone got cross about the Alphas refusing to live like everyone else. He'd got cross when he heard about it. But that was because he couldn't do it. Couldn't go on the Track. Now he could! He had their programming …

"Look …" she was saying, "times will change. What they do now … eventually others will mix with them, live with them, have their sparklings, do what they do … " she looked up at him. _"But it will take a while …"_

He stared at her, the sick feeling magnifying. "But I'm not 'others'!" he gasped.

Her gaze was sad. "Oh yes you are!" Rising, she went to him and took his hand and looked into his optics. "_Especially you, _Sunstreaker! I know this is hard, but you are - particularly not one of them because you are – the result of an activity not approved of in Alpha culture."

The words echoed in his head, and he found he was shaking. Her hand came up and he saw she still held the white card. "Here .." A softness came about her. "Blaze has been decent about it," she said. "He asked me to give you this. .." she handed it across to him and he took it, dazed. "It is a Simfurrian bank account card," she said. "The account has considerable funds in it…"

He turned it over, his mind still a whorl. He looked at her. "How much?"

"About a million credits .." he felt his circuits give a jolt. "He wants you to - finish your education somewhere proper and make something of your life, Sunstreaker …" she paused, and he read in her optics both fear and sorrow. "But in return …" she hesitated.

He felt weak. The heat was suddenly suffocating, the room oppressive. Outside he was dimly aware of a crash and more angry voices.

She turned away. "You are never to track him down ..." she hesitated, and when she turned back, her optics glistened. " … and to access the funds you will need to sign datapads to the effect that you renounce any connection to the Alpha caste of Cyberton…." She looked at him, and there were tears spilling from her optics and running down her cheeks now, "and any rights to anything which is an Alpha domain!"

He stared at her in disbelief. She hung her head and turned away and sat down again. Now his inners churned and the sick feeling started to turn into something else. For now he understood, knew why this had all been so hard for her. Because - now he thought about it -the name _De Lorian_ was familiar. He had not taken much notice of any Alpha names. He knew the racers by colours and numbers. And the names all sounded the same. But _de Lorian_ – that stood out.

He glared at her. "He's a Trackracer isn't he? This Blaze …"

She shook her head. "One of his creations, I believe. A full caste. Your half brother…."And then as he struggled to absorb this latest bombshell, she looked up at him and said. "I know about your aspirations in that way, Sunstreaker. I am sorry. But there are other forms of racing…." She attempted a thin smile. "And you can always go and watch this brother …"

He was angry then. Deeply. Fury welled in his spark, more potent than anything he had ever known in his life.

"LIKE KELL!" he roared, and he found himself on his feet, fuming at her, towering as she shrank away. His creator, who now was not even his creator - just a whore from the blocks - a miserable wretch who did favours for Cybertron's upper echelons! A fiend who offered him the world one microsecond and then smashed it to pieces the next.

Her optics widened and she shrank backwards. He held up the card. "_You can tell him to stick this where the twin suns don't shine!"_ he roared, hurling it down. "And if I wanna live in a palace, or be a racer, I'll do it! And if it means not taking money he wants to give me to make me not wanna do it, _I don't want the fragging money…"_ his voice rose. _"I DON"T GIVE A FRAG WHAT YOU SAY!_" He was really yelling now: _"I"VE GOT RIGHTS! ISN"T THAT HOW IT"S SUPPOSED TO BE NOW! AND IF I WANNA SAY I'M AN ALPHA. I'LL SAY I'M A FRAGGIN' ALPHA!"_

His fists were clenched. She backed up, placing the berth between herself and him. "It doesn't work like that!" she whispered. "And keep your voice down!" Past her through the window he was aware that the action had stopped and heads were turned in their direction.

"WHY?" he roared. "EVERYONE IN THIS FRAGGING HOVEL CAN HEAR EVERYONE ELSE ANYWAY!"

"Look at this pithole!" he gestured around him, ignoring the staring optics of his new audience. "All my life l've been a fragging junkie whore's creation living in the kellhole of the Universe…" he noted the hurt which crossed her face, as though she had been struck, the horror in her optics, but did not care. "But now I find out I'm not what I thought I was and I've got a chance. To be something I always wanted to be_. Now you're trying to tell me some stupid rule's gonna stop me! WELL I DON"T LIVE BY THE RULES! NOT NOW! NOT EVER! NOT FOR ANYONE!"_

He stopped, heaving. She was crying now, and she shook her head. "You don't understand!" she sobbed. "There is no choice in this! You have to take this. If you don't … then … the Alphas can make matters very unpleasant. To not take this would be – dangerous!"

He couldn't believe he was hearing this. "IS THAT RIGHT?" he bawled. "WELL BRING IT ON! IF THEY WANNA TAKE ME ON THEN THEY CAN! I'VE STUDIED THEM! I'M FASTER THAN MOST OF THEM ANYWAY! AND I'M PROBABLY STRONGER!" Now he became properly aware of a dozen or so pairs of juvenile optics looking on with fascination. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT!" he roared. He drove his fist into the window, it broke with a loud crack and the femme shrank back further. Juvenile optics widened. The gang scarpered.

She was behind the bench, intakes heaving, face pale and stricken. "Sunstreaker," she rasped, "The Alphas could kill you! Believe me, they're very adept at that! I haven't told you everything. There's more!"

And whilst he stood there boiling, not knowing how he was managing not to start smashing up the whole room, she said "The incubation – after Blaze implanted the program - the spark element split into two! _You have a twin!"_

She sank back against the wall whilst he struggled to absorb yet another bombshell. "This is not like your half brother!" she said weakly. "It means there are two of you!"

Once again, all he could do was stare. Then he felt a weakness spread over his frame, and slowly he moved to the berth and sat down heavily. His optics glazed, unseeing. She sighed, leaning heavily against the wall. And when he looked down, a sudden overwhelming emotion gripping his spark, she sighed. "Look - they could have aborted the program. But they didn't! They didn't because they believed the combination of their programming would give rise to - a superior mechanism …"

He looked at her, beyond surprise now. "But it didn't work that way! Superior - yes - but not in the way they intended…." She hesitated. "And that was another problem for Blaze because – multiple replications aren't approved of – or tolerated - in Alpha culture either."

He felt the venom rising again. _"Why am I not surprised to hear that?"_ he snarled.

She went on. "That is why when the incubation was at an end and it was time to transfer the program to a replication chamber you and your brother went into different chambers. In different places. Then when your prototype was built you came back to me … but he went else where. Otherwise …" she hesitated again. " … there was a concern that certain Alphas - if they found out - would kill you both!"

He was speechless. He wondered then just who the Alpha caste, the former rulers of Cybertron, really were, and a darkness crept over his spark. For a fleeting moment he thought that perhaps he should be happy to not be a part of it. Everything he had learned rallied deeply against some deep belief, something he felt buried within his spark. Yet all that was overwhelmed by the fury he felt at not being allowed into their world.

She had fetched a cloth and was wiping her optics. She picked up the card and held it out. "It's another reason you should take this money!" she said. "That way it will not matter – even if they do find out you're a twin." And when he said nothing, feeling the anger start to burn inside again she said: "Kell, Sunstreaker! He's been generous! He could have had you killed. And me! Let alone provided an opportunity like this!

He was incredulous. The fury burst out again. "Are you trying to tell me I owe him one for letting me exist? And then stopping his mates for knocking me off ?'

"I know it sounds bad. I'm sorry."

Looking back, Sunstreaker often surmised that it was at that moment he decided to support the Government. And the ones who made up their ranks who later called themselves the Autobots. Because they at least were trying to make everything fair. Whereas this Alpha Caste - from that moment he hated the Alphas and vowed that if he ever had the chance to fight them and bring down their rotten regime once and for all he would.

And he told himself he hated them for what they stood for but, in fact - although it took him aeons to admit it - he hated them for shutting him out.

Now he looked up at her, seething. "Where is he? MY - _TWIN?"_

She sighed. "I don't know … I don't even know where they built the protoform."

Hatred burned in his spark. For her, the Alpha caste, everything. And there was, of course, one more thing she had not told him.

"What about the other mech? _My other creator?"_

"I don't know!" She dared to move back to the bench now and she sat down, weakly, looking at him, drawn, with tear stained cheeks. "Something high up in Government, I believe" she whispered. "That's all I know!"

Hope flared briefly. Illogically. Then the anger returned. "I suppose I'm not allowed in his circles either!"

She sighed and shook her head and he saw real sorrow there and caring, but he was not interested. "I can't answer that!" she said. "I don't even know if he's aware you and your brother exist."

Anger erupted, and he was on his feet again. "IT"S ALL ONE HUGE PRIMUS ALMIGHTY FRAG UP, ISN"T IT? THAT'S WHAT I AM!. A FRAG UP! AND NOT A HALF CASTE! I'M A FRAGGING OUTCAST!" He glared at her, but this time she did not shrink back, and he saw a new look come over her. "I don't know why you even told me all this!"

She rose slowly, and this time her voice was more controlled than before. There was a determined look in her optics. "Because this is a chance for you!" then they filled with tears again. "And I want you to have it! This is your right …"

Of all the things she had said today, that surely had to be the most ridiculous "I DON"T HAVE ANY RIGHTS!" he roared.

And then suddenly all he wanted to do was to get out of there and go and take on the Stunticons. And thrash the Kell out of them. And he wanted to imagine every single one of them was an Alpha caste and that he had somehow busted on to the track. _The Real Track._ He would systematically wipe them out, one by one ...

He picked up the card and shoved it furiously into her hand. "Here's an idea!" he spat. "You use this! Go down the Blocks precinct and get enough enhancers to shove into your filthy conduits to send yourself into oblivion – for good!"

And he was gone, ignoring her stricken tear stained face. He was through the door and into the street and away into the night, ignoring the mech still in the shadows, ignoring the stares from the dirty windows as he transformed and roared past them.

* * *

Sunstreaker awoke with a start, pump hammering, intaking sharply. The stars burned very brightly in the canopy above. A creature called somewhere in the night and another answered. A gentle breeze had sprung up, and it wafted over is surfaces, cool and soothing. He sat up. The lights down the mountain were twinkling.

Always he went back in dreams to that conversation! And always he remembered such detail. But now, as always, a cavalcade of images about what had come afterwards went through his processor. No details. Just like a series of snapshots was getting played.

The Stunticons. The Race. His triumph. Thinking the whole time of the Alphas, and slamming his dental plates together so that it hurt and vowing _I am as good as any of you spawns of glitches whether you like it or not and this is just the beginning! I have your programming, and that is all that matters …_

Afterwards. The high grade, and the other drugs. The psychedelic lights and the thunking music, and the pretty mech with the door wings - the one that tried to look like a Praxan. And the femmes. Many of them. Many mechs and femmes all with nice bodies and seams and cracks and wires and ports and more drink and drugs and lights and wildly throbbing sounds....

Losing himself so he did not have to think about earlier …

The police again. The arrests. A serious bust, this time, his adult mech friends being led away. The hiding in the shadows, the not going home for two cycles until; he was starved and parched and had to, and then returning to find the unit surrounded by police. The neighbours gawking. The not being allowed in. Being told the femme had – died. Being belted in the face and knocked nearly unconscious by the big black one he knew as Barricade when he tried to force his way past them …

The despair, the guilt, the emptiness …

Something white on the ground. The numbers of the bank account on the front of the card.

Her body. Her frail, sad, drug infested body. The great and terrible love he suddenly felt for her, of all that she had been through to bring him into the universe. And this Blaze. Of how she'd loved him and he'd used her…

The burning anger and hatred which had fired through every part of him …

The inquest. The finding of "accidental overdose …"

The funeral. The community cremation furnace. Nobody there except the silly femme from next door and her wailing sparkling and a couple of degenerates who claimed to be "relations". No clients. No-one! And definitely no sign of his pit spawned Alpha Caste creator .. or the other one …

Putting a single amethyst crystal in the ridiculous Blocks community memorial chamber, because purple was her favourite colour and he did not know what in Kell else he could do. Looking at the plaque of names of those who had died in the Blocks for stupid, useless reasons and vowing that he would do something about these places, if it was the last thing he ever did …

…………………………

Sunstreaker put his hands to his face and rubbed his golden optics. The stars burned in the canopy above. The memories kept coming.

The unit getting smashed up, everything taken. The life of fear he led after that. Feeling alone and – hunted. Although he did not know who, or what hunted him.

And he had the card …. But he was damned if he was going anywhere near the bank.

Swindle and Vortex. The Combaticon mob. Onslaught. Leaving the Blocks, forever, and surviving under their crooked, Primus forsaken mantle. Dangerous. Desperate. But anything was better than go and sign those papers and use that card …

Jail. Then Sideswipe. Sideswipe's wealthy Praxan step creators getting him out of jail and then welcoming him in as one of the family. Him never really accepting their charity, and feeling lost and alone, and so many other issues, and so many questions unanswered.

Questions that still, to this day, remained unanswered …

………………………….

Sunstreaker looked at the stars. He could see the three stars which the humans called the belt of Orion rising in the east and he reflected how those three stars looked just like that from Cybertron, and how a lot of stars did, and how Jack said that was because in comparative terms their two star systems weren't far apart. That was a good thing if they were, as he believed, in for the long haul here.

But it didn't matter where he was, he concluded with a sigh. His past still plagued him. The whole ghastly circumstamces of his incubator's death and the horrible feeling in his spark that she was killed and it was his fault. The anger once he really thought about Blaze De Lorian and realised how he had let her struggle away in that pithole for aeons with his now unwanted spawn and had then paid him - not out of concern - but to stay out of his life and not be an embarrassment. Or die …

But he didn't die! And he waged war on the Alphas. Oh, how he waged it! His own, private, bitter war. And they waged it back! And the more it raged, the more the doors were closed against him….

And that was really what he had never come to terms with. Never! Even though most of them had been dead for a long time now. And he had never felt sorry about the destruction of the Alpha districts; in fact, it elated him. He thought of Mirage – the surviving full caste – and the hatred which burned behind the blue optics because Mirage still suffered over the Towers and Mirage knew he, Sunstreaker, didn't give a damn and Sunstreaker knew Mirage knew this and derived a grim satisfaction from his sufferings.

Nor had he resolved the bitter disappointment of not knowing who his other creator was, of going up so many blind allies but, ultimately, the searches yielding nothing ….

He thought of his twin brother. A warmth spread through his spark. Yet Sideswipe couldn't help. Sides didn't worry about these things. Sides had never even been to Kaon! Sides reckoned since he grew up in Praxus he was Praxan, and that even though Praxas wasn't there any more that was who he was, and it didn't matter how he was really programmed. Said he never felt like an Alpha so he couldn't care less if they didn't think he was one of them. And it was true that there were no murmured innuendos and poisonous glances between him and Mirage, in fact, they got on quite well!

Kell! Nothing bothered Sideswipe! He wasn't even bothered about the scrap being blown out of Praxus because he said it was just buildings and it was people that counted and all the people who counted to him had survived.

He came back once again to the conclusion that out of everyone here on Earth from Cybertron, Thunder was the only one who did.

…………………

Thunder. He thought of him again now. He was the first one he'd ever really told about that conversation with his incubator at the Blocks. The first time he'd ever confided in anyone about the hopelessness he felt over so many of the issues it raised, the anger and the bitterness and the implications which he knew were going to come out of it. It was also the first time he and the Seeker shared connectors …

Sunstreaker took a deep intake and let it out in a slow hiss. Even after all this time, he remembered it so well! He had not known the Seeker long. Thunder had laughed, that deep melodious laugh he used to have.

"Kell, what a tale!" He'd said. "That's amazing! I thought my origins were prickly enough, but that takes the tailwind! You should write a book …"

He'd been furious. "Are you trying to make fun of me?" he'd snarled. "make a joke out of the fact that I only know part of who I am and can't even be that because a load of glitchspawned aftholes think I'm a pile of pit?"

The Seeker had reached out and taken his hand, and he remembered how electric that first touch had been. "Hey!" he'd said softly "No offence meant. But y'know, it ain't so bad. You wanna try being a Seeker! Ever wondered what it's like to have the whole of Cybertron think you're a pile of pit?"

He'd laughed, but then he'd burst into tears, and then the Seeker had taken him in his arms and held him and rocked him gently. He'd said "Sun, you can't change what y'are. But you can make something of what ya got. And from what I can see you've got plenty."

"But I don't even know who I am!" he'd wailed.

He remembered Thunder's arms around him, his reassuring strength. "Sun you are - your Spark and everything which has happened to you and everything that you think and feel. Which is lots of amazing bits and pieces, as far as I can see. Now you have to get in there and pull out the good bits. And you got lots of those. And times'll change – you'll see. I'd bet half my aft you'll be fanging it round that Track one day …. And if you ain't – you'll be doing something else amazing …"

And then he'd wanted the Seeker after that, and it was the first time he'd ever really wanted anyone with his spark and not just for a quick buzz and energy exchange and release of overload. And the Seeker had resisted at first, and then hadn't been able to, and once they'd started they couldn't stop. They'd made love all that cycle, and that had been the start of their relationship.

And the Seeker had said lots of lovely things to him lots of times after that … lots of times …

Sunstreaker took another deep intake, and looked again at the starry sky. Again the Earth creature cry rang out and, again, it was answered.

He remembered after that first time, as they lay there in a blissful afterglow, Thunder had said "And for Primus sake, stamp on that stupid pride and use that money! It's yours!! The frag where it came from! Do something with it …"

And he'd felt too happy to be angry, but he'd murmured: "but my identity! I have to sign it away…"

"Naa you ain't signing nothing away! It's just a fraggin' data pad! Sign it! Then do whatever you wanna do anyway, only .." and he had leaned over and kissed him, deeply and softly: "you're probably best off staying away from those Alphas, sweetspark.

The fights with Thunder when he didn't and he got himself in a whole pitload of trouble for other things came later….

But he'd used the money. To train as a pitfighter. Then Sides had wanted to be in the pit as well so he'd used the rest of it to get him trained too. And it was then that Skywarp came into the picture and that had been that with Thunder ….

…………………….

Sunstreaker looked down to where the outline of the Ark shone faintly in the starlight. Sides was right – he had been sparkbroken. And irrational. Yet, for all that, he'd had a good look at himself and asked himself what he'd stood for. And he'd joined the Autobots because he really did believe in their cause, and his skills from the pit had made him a formidable warrior. And all through the war when his past still plagued him and when he'd had to face Thunder in battle he'd remembered his words, and Thunder had been right: he had become something amazing - one of the best most respected Autobot soldiers of them all.

And the great irony was that he knew – whether the rest of the 'Bots accepted it or not – that it was largely because of the Seeker, largely because of a Decepticon, that he was how he was now.

And whilst he'd never stopped thinking Thunder deserved far better than the Cons and, especially, he deserved someone better than Skywarp, he'd never been able to hate him.

And now he would help him. He could not bear to see him suffering the way he obviously was. He would enfold him to him the way Thunder had done to him, so long ago. And who knows, he may just help himself again. Come one step closer to answering the unanswered and resolving his dark and tortured past.

…………………………….

After a while, there came the inevitable buzz on the com. "Sun? You right?"

Sideswipe. Jack had told him. He was surprised how much better and more resolved he sounded when he answered.

. .:: I'm headed in ::. he said. .:: I won't be long ::.

But he continued to sit and stare at the night vista for quite a while after that.

* * *

I never intended this to be that long! But it should make the next FF chapter better. Thanks for hanging in there.

I had a think about why Sunstreaker was so angry at the universe and at the animosity between him and Mirage and figured it was all pretty serious. And JK Rowling played around with things halfblood so I figured I could do the same with the half castes. Sunny and Sides aren't the only ones incidentally. A loose end, along with a load of others now hanging there, I know. All to be tied up in time! Please R&R! A x


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